Recurring
by livinglovely
Summary: Various moments in Blair Waldorf's life are tucked away and kept in a certain place in her mind for safekeeping. Sometimes, Blair Waldorf likes to replay them, black and white film in mind and champagne flute in silk gloved hand. Season 1 Drabbles.
1. Realizing the horribleness of it all

Just a little Blair drabble that just came out after months upon horrendous months of writer's block (a history paper on Michelangelo finally broke the spell, go figure...)

Takes place just after/before the Pilot.

* * *

Sometimes, on a night devoid of assignments or hostess requirements, she looks at the world through her tiny apartment window (Central Park is world enough) and notes (and names) all of the stars of the sky and she realizes the horribleness of it all.

That's why sometimes, when she's alone, void of the passion that drives the fake smiles behind her everyday façade (Hello sir, how are you? My father went to Yale!), she closes her door and cries because the muffled sobs sound much more beautiful than any speech she could ever articulate to those close to her (perhaps even better than wretching into a porcelain sink, but she wouldn't dare admit that, even in thought).

While the liquid seeps out of the pores of her being, everything that is horrible in her life comes crashing down upon her (that's the funny thing about tears, they bring everything floating to the surface); she thinks about her family—rather, lack of—and how it is void of the structure, the perfection that it's _supposed_ to have. Her father is not _supposed_ to be in France with his lover (male lover). Her mother is not _supposed_ to spend her days wilting away in her now-larger 4-post queen bed (she is supposed to criticize and pick at and peck at and make Blair feel her familiar insecure).

She thinks about how uncertain she is of her future (Yale, Nate, perfection, repeat); does she really want to study law? Does she really want to spend a quarter of her life on such blasé studies (does she really want to put so _much _effort into her every assignment until she is 26?)? Does she even really love Nate (since the return of the blonde she-goddess)? She's not _supposed _to be uncertain—that's Serena's job—but, somehow (after her world comes crashing down) she is.

She thinks of how, when she looks into the mirror, she somehow can't again see miles of long legs and blonde hair—quite the opposite. Why is it that she can't touch her stomach without repulsively pinching the fat and being repulsed once again? Why is it that her hair isn't magical and goddess-like and beautiful and golden? (Why is it that _she_ isn't magical and goddess-like and beautiful and golden? Who decided that she got to be the frog of the fairytale?) Why is it that, although everything is the same as before, everything has changed (for the worse)?

She thinks about the impact of time and change. How could time change everything in an instant? How could she be queen one day and merely the uninformed extra the next? How everything could simply _change_, she does not understand. Not a bit.

When her sobbing eases up, she forces herself to look back at the window. The stars have changed again(as they are supposed to), but she now remains the same as she did only a few hours ago (sporting her previous hostess-ing Marc Jacobs dress with pink Lanvin flats and light cream toenails). And that tear that lands on her beige carpet is the last for the night.


	2. That goddamn upturn of mouth

I've been feeling rather inspired lately - perhaps it's the sunniness of the outside or anticipation of summer (or both). So I hammered this drabble out, and have decided to continue _Recurring_ as an ongoing project where I can release all of my feelings upon and interpretations of the fantastic Blair Cornelia Waldorf.

I wrote this in an honest 30 minutes, unbeta-d, so don't be surprised to see any errors. (If you do, it would be lovely to point them out! :))

Drabble - 470 words.

Around 1.10.

Blair Waldorf

* * *

Wipe that goddamn smile off your face!

She stares at the LG screen, disheveled hair in her face, _smiling_- downright _grinning - _as she gets the text.

They're flirting by text –_ flirtexting_- to keep the whole forbidden relationship, well, forbidden – and hot – 24 hours a day. The particular large-upturn-of-the-mouth-text was one that involved the Cotillion, as in attendance to the cotillion, as in _with him_.

She can't help but think of how his lecherous eyes would take her in upon entrance to the ballroom in her decadent off-cream gown, how they would battle the thick sexual tension between them on the elegant ballroom floor, what they would secretly_ do (what he would show her) _afterward. The forbidden tryst has done this to her, she thinks- she has become a whining teenage romantic novel addict, but in her world of mystery and secrecy, she doesn't care (not too much).

A wave of sound enters her senses and her gaze shifts to an awaiting Nate, getting suited up for a Cotillion. _Their_ Cotillion- and it all comes crashing back;

As soon as she looks up, the fantasy of blissful unreality is over; she's back in the real world, looking over to a confused (as always) Nate who, by the looks of his upturned mouth, had just asked her a question and was waiting for a response. She doesn't even perceive that Nate is looking his entire charmingly handsome self, tan tuxedo in place, eyes especially blue- only because she is currently swirling in a dark and murky pool of passion and mystery that is fading because of the blue-eyed demon and making her act a moody bitch to this interrupter.

She can't help the way she feels right now – she's lighter, happier, and doesn't even care that her SAT scores were lower than previously anticipated (2290 – she was aiming for a 2400).

The world is suddenly filled with light in a dark and dreary November, and she couldn't be more pleased. She secretly wants to scream into a pillow, to tell Serena, to release it all (_à la Jo from _Funny Face) – but it would defeat the purpose.

Of secrecy, that is.

Because she does not need a release to figure out what the feeling is- certainly not, it's merely teenage _lust; _but she can't help but imagine how she would prattle to Serena about the heat of the relationship over fat-free Pinkberry, simply waiting for the two of them to begin the squealing...

And realization comes again as she does it _again_- Blair Waldorf is stuck in her world of lusty fantasy as she struts past a gaping Nate, next location certainly in mind and _in body_.

Perhaps caring and stopping for such a feeling will be of importance later in her years as an adult socialist; but, as of the moment in her seventeen-year processing, Blair Waldorf feels free, uninhibited, and she simply feels like raising a smile to the entire world.


End file.
